


Cash Cow

by SubwayWolf



Series: Old College Try [5]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Class Differences, Finger Sucking, Foreplay, M/M, Power Dynamics, Sex Work, Trans Character, Voyeurism, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11615787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: Lonely rich boy Dennis had developed such a taste for street prostitutes that he made a place in his home for one of his repeat favorites, Mac from South Philly, under the guise of one of many of the Reynolds family's servants. Mac has clearly caught feelings, but instead of confronting them, Dennis decides to test Mac's loyalty by inviting his lawyer neighbor, Charlie, over for a demonstration.





	Cash Cow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Microdigitalwaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Microdigitalwaker/gifts).



> hello all! this one i'm pretty excited to share. if you follow me on my nsfw twitter you know i won't shut up about sex worker au macdennis. so i decided to write a little piece for it! i'm sure it's been done before but i wanted to try my hand at it. thanks for being so patient between updates in my sunny bingo series!
> 
> this fic is also part of a fic trade with [microdigitalwaker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Microdigitalwaker). i did sex worker!mac and client!dennis per her request, while she did the opposite, per mine. here is a link to her fic, [Rent](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11551569)! check it out!
> 
> since it got long (2k word limit who?) i'm splitting it into two parts. the first one's worldbuilding. the next is dirty stuff. i'll add the tags and change the rating once we get there. so be patient, and enjoy!!

Dennis Reynolds was practically a saint.

It was deserving of a humanitarian award, to offer a caring hand to Mac, a street rat whore who not long ago lived in the alleys and slums of South Philly. Frankly, it was above and beyond plain old charitability to not only help him out of the lower class, but to give him a place among the richest one percent. To give him a home to live in, and a substantial wage, and honest work – outdoor work, garden work and pool-tending, suitable work to him and his gorgeous body to be out in the sun like that.

(Right now, he was trimming the Reynolds’ estate’s expansive backyard’s hedges with nothing but a pair of garden shears. Dennis watched from inside today. If it were cooler, he would have sat by the pool, making sure to wear sunglasses so he could watch the way Mac’s muscles glistened in the sunlight. But humidity made Dennis’ makeup run, so he stayed inside and watched from afar, peeking over the top of the newspaper every so often in case Dee walked into the kitchen to see him sitting there, staring. Not like that would make him stop.)

A saint. Of course. As much as Mac thanked him and praised him and said scary things like _I thank God every night that he brought me into your life_ , it still didn’t feel like the appreciation Dennis deserved. 

Alright, fine, when he put it like that… Maybe he didn’t need appreciation for this. Giving Mac a place in his home was a reward in itself. Mac was here. He helped around the house and kept Dennis company and did whatever he was told. 

And there was the sex, too. That’s why Mac was brought here in the first place – but Dennis would be quite literally damned if anyone found out that little detail.

Frank was too wrapped up in his business to know or care about Mac, but Dee had to have known. She was stupid, of course, but she often was smarter than even the keen-eyed Dennis gave her credit for. She may not have said anything aloud, but the knowing glances she gave to Mac and the subtle teasing that went over his head when they spoke, it was enough to imply that she knew _exactly_ why he was a permanent housekeeper now. She never called Dennis out on it, though, and – thank god – never told Frank what she knew. But there wasn’t a doubt in Dennis’ mind that she was keeping this information in her back pocket to use as blackmail, someday. Luckily, Dennis had volumes of blackmail to use on her in return, so when the time came to cross that bridge, he would be safe.

Maybe Dennis was just being paranoid. Maybe Dee really was too stupid to know. That was entirely possible. 

It didn’t matter. Dennis needed Mac, regardless of his family’s opinion on him. 

Ever since Barbara died, there was nobody to vent to, nobody to fully understand him and his big feelings. Though usually when Dennis would vent to his mother, usually poolside as they sipped wine or peach margaritas, she would ignore him or he would peek past her sunglasses to find out she had fallen asleep. Venting to Mac felt better, because he actually listened. Sometimes it felt terrible, a natural feeling after oversharing. It was especially terrible when Mac tried giving advice, as if Dennis would ever listen to the life advice of a drunken street rat whore from the alleys of South Philly. But most of the time, it felt… good.

It wasn’t just the venting, though. That was nice, but sex with Mac was better. 

The first times they had met, Dennis had his driver take him to South Philly and find someone to fuck for cash. Street prostitution was a white trash business, but Dennis had found himself craving a taste of the common people’s lifestyle as he got older and more bored with being a rich boy. Not that he would trade it for anything – just a taste was enough.

Dennis had been with plenty of South Philly whores in his life. Some were high-end, while others were bottom-of-the-barrel crack addicts who blew him in the back of his limo for a Jackson or a single line of blow. Men and women and others, whoever happened to catch his eye.

Mac was different.

Mac had a heart of gold. Mac was handsome and strong and would have made just a good of a bodyguard or driver as he would a whore. Kind eyes and a welcoming smile, and an endearing way of jutting his chin up when he was trying to be intimidating. Mac was manipulable and naïve and he worked hard for almost no pay. Mac had a big dick and could choke Dennis’ feelings down with it until Dennis’ mascara ran, then hold him afterwards, catching just enough feelings to keep it all a secret. 

Mac was _perfect_.

On the day they met, Dennis had pulled up in his limousine, rolled his window down, probably reeking of cash and, naturally, looking like a god, and Mac, poor sweet Mac, he turned Dennis down. Said he wasn’t interested in men. Dennis remembered thinking to himself, goddamn, he must be new to this. This poor, stupid, beautiful man. 

It took one night and a hundred dollars for Mac to realize he was in fact interested in men. The kicker was that he asked for Dennis’ number. Dennis thought to himself, what audacity. He’s either dumb as bricks, or genuine, or worse – both. But the fucking was good. Mac’s dick was big, and he was relatively clean, and he had big strong hands and was a goddamn natural at pinning Dennis down and fucking him, all his weight pressed on top. He had tattoos and talked dark and slicked his hair back, and all of this combined made Dennis' heart pound thick and hard, blood and adrenaline rushing through him. The same every single time.

Dennis didn’t give him his number, but he did come back around South Philly looking for him. Again, and again, and again.

And now he was here. Every night, within reach. And while everything in the world continuously bored Dennis, Mac never failed to sink his teeth into Dennis’ interest and shake violently, like some huge, rabid dog. In other words, Dennis never got sick of him.

Mac asked a lot of questions, though. Some were easy, like the meanings to big words or what the hell are _foie gras_ or is water polo even a real thing? 

But not all of Mac’s inquiries went over so easily. Sometimes he asked why Dennis liked to bang whores. _Do you get it from your father? Do you have a great relationship with your father? Of course not. Where did all this money come from? Do you hate your sister?_

_Are you happy?_

_Are you in love with me?_

Too many goddamn questions. Dennis did _not_ like these questions. 

Dennis was alone in the dining room, finishing a cigarette and reading the morning newspaper when Mac finally finished his yard work. The sliding glass door opened with a flourish. Dennis lifted his eyes in time to see Mac’s dirty hands rubbing dirt and mud all over not only the handle but also the glass. He would have to tell Mac to clean it up later.

“Yo, Den! Are you inside?”

 _Den_. That was annoying, too.

Mac was sun-kissed and glistening, his hair slicked back with sweat. He had a smile on his face, though. He almost always did. His eyes lit up when he spotted Dennis. “There you are. I was looking for you.”

Dennis looked at the clock. It was already almost four? How long had he been zoning out? He turned to Mac and looked him over, his gaze probably coming across as more of a glare than one of interest.

Mac didn’t care, or more likely didn’t notice. “I finished trimming the hedges. They’re all done. Straight as can be. Well, except for the parts I messed up, but… I don’t think you can really notice. Unless you stand real close. Your dad won’t get mad at me for that, will he? I don’t think he will. His eyesight is pretty bad. But anyway. It’s all done!” 

They had professional gardeners who came on the weekends, who did a much better job. But Mac got antsy if Dennis didn’t give him something to do. And if Mac got antsy, he started asking those damn questions.

“What did you want me to do next?”

Dennis couldn’t think of anything else for Mac to do, so he said nothing.

Mac didn’t seem to care that he wasn’t being answered. “Those garden shears are badass. I bet I could cut anything with them. I could cut the grass. I could cut whole tree branches. Even other stuff. Like – I don’t know, like meat, or something. Ever try that? When you guys make steaks, do you ever cut them with shears-”

“No.” Now that he thought about it, the maids never bothered Dennis like this. Neither did the gardeners, or the chefs, or the drivers. In fact, most of them never spoke to him at all.

“So what are you up to?”

Dennis contained his annoyance and spoke clearly. “I’m trying to enjoy some peace and quiet. Alone.” 

Mac’s smile dropped. “Oh. I’m sorry, man. I forgot you were having Dennis Time until four. Should I come back later?”

“I don’t care what you do, as long as you’re quiet. Stop bothering me.” 

“Okay. I’m just gonna stand here, then.”

“I don’t care.”

Mac just stood there in silence, touching his wet shirt and sniffing at his pits, hopefully coming to terms with how bad he smelled. He required instruction to do anything, which was nice, but it grew tiresome.

After a few seconds, Mac spoke again. “Hey, Den?”

Dennis didn’t answer him or even look at him.

“Are you mad at me for interrupting your alone time?”

“I said to be quiet.”

“Roger that.”

Unable to stand still for more than thirty seconds, Mac lifted an arm to reach underneath and peel the pit stain-soaked fabric off his skin. He smelled like grass and B.O., and his shoulders were a bit sunburned, as was a curve on his chest and neck, following the hem of his tank top. Dennis would have to rub aloe vera all over him tonight. A waste of time, taking care of someone, but there were worse people to rub gel onto than a handsome, muscular man.

Dennis could feel his heart kick up in his chest. Why did Mac have to stand so damn close, like some kind of slave just waiting for his next order? Was that how Mac felt? Was it accurate?

Dennis couldn’t stand it. “If you’re going to stand there like an idiot, at least back up a few feet so I don’t have to smell you.”

Mac immediately took two steps backwards.

Ridiculous. Dennis sighed. “Why are you bothering me? What do you want?”

“I dunno. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. That’s all.”

Dennis felt his temperature raise. This guy was really an idiot. 

A noise came from the staircase in the other room. Dennis looked down the hall and tried to peek at the stairs. He could hear footsteps coming down, quick yet heavy, definitely belonging to his sister. 

The front door opened and closed. Dee left without a word. 

Dennis didn’t care where she was going, but he would like to know how much time he had between now and either her or Frank’s return. For a person who lived in the lap of luxury and did pretty much nothing with his life, Dennis almost never had peace and quiet like this. With Dee always hanging around and Frank, when he wasn’t at work, practically hiding around every corner, it was rare for Dennis to get alone time with Mac. That’s why he went to the city looking for hook-ups in the first place. Although having Mac here was a huge risk, it was better than Dennis risking his life and going to crime-ridden South Philly in search of a quality lay. Having Mac an arm’s reach away paid off in times like these.

Not that Dennis would ever tell Mac that. Mac had to learn his place. Letting him in on personal information like this would come much, much later, if he earned it.

Only then, Dennis realized Mac was still talking. “…You never know what’s out there. Muggers, criminals, gang members, or just straight up assholes. I know your neighborhood is way nicer than mine, but bad people are everywhere in the world, Dennis. I don’t know why anyone would ever want to hurt you but if they tried, I’d want to be there for that. So I think you should seriously consider it.” 

There he went again. Mac was extremely adamant try his shot at being a bodyguard. Dennis preferred going places on his own. Mac made a perfect companion already, but Dennis would not be able to tolerate a shadow. Didn’t Mac know that it wasn’t his place to suggest or ask things of Dennis? Could his thick skull ever learn something that simple? 

Mac was ceaseless. “Your dad has bodyguards that take him to work, right? And I’m… I’m as big as those dudes, right? I totally am. I’ll work out more if you think I need to. Do you think I should work out more? I really want to be your bodyguard, dude.”

Dennis barely refrained from audibly sighing. “Will you please stop bringing this up?”

Mac kept on talking. “I know I keep asking about this, and you always tell me to shut up but hear me out, Den. I would be an amazing bodyguard for you. I mean, come on. Just look at me. One look, and anyone who ever wanted to touch you would look the other way.”

Okay, that sounded nice. Dennis was not a fan of people touching him. The thought of it made his stomach turn, but he couldn’t recall why. He lightly shrugged. “Hmm. I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah! Nice!” Mac did a cute little gesture where he made a fist and held it out in front of him, showing his excitement. 

Dennis was too annoyed to smile at that. He was barely able to brainstorm ways to get Mac to learn what he could and could not ask of Dennis, when Mac started talking again.

“Hey, who called you on the phone?”

Dennis furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Your cell phone, dude. Even over all that loud noise outside, I could still hear your ringtone through the open window! Which is weird, because nobody ever calls you, except for me, right? When you’re not home when you say you’ll be home-” Yeah, giving Mac his own cheap pay-as-you-go cellphone wasn’t the best idea. “-And I get nervous for you sometimes, you know that. But anyway, hey, I was wondering who called you. If you’re okay with telling me. If you’re not--”

Dennis raised his hand. Mac stopped talking immediately. It was nice to have him trained like that, at least.

In the resulting silence, Dennis picked up his cell phone. He hadn’t actually heard his phone ring, and if he did, he wouldn’t have answered it.

His screen lit up and read, _Missed Call (1): Charlie Kelly_. 

The Kellys were the next door neighbors of the Reynolds family. In all honestly, Dennis had no clue how they came into their money. They were eccentric and weird and, as well as Dennis knew Charlie, super white trash. Frank vocalized his suspicions constantly, but whenever he got drunk and pounded on their door asking questions, he’d return the next morning with a smile on his face, praising Bonnie Kelly and all her good graces. Disgusting.

Charlie was nice enough, though. He was a lawyer, or so he claimed; Dennis had his suspicions on that but never cared enough to pry. Charlie was alright to hang around with because he knew when to be quiet, and could entertain himself if needed. When he did talk, it was about things Dennis had no interest in like bizarre recipes or birds – Charlie did spend hours walking around his huge backyard with binoculars, looking for birds and jotting down scribbles of notes in a journal. Dee was convinced that Charlie was just peeping on one of the women who lived behind them and down the street, but to Dennis, Charlie seemed too innocent for that. Maybe that’s why he invited Charlie over today.

“I’ll tell you exactly who called,” Dennis said, waving his phone at Mac with a smirk. “My good friend and neighbor Charlie Kelly.”

“Is he the guy who came over drunk last week, asking for cocaine?”

“No, not the Ponderosa house. The Kelly house.”

“Oh. The guy with the binoculars who peeps on the people across the street.”

Dennis shrugged, resigned. “I guess.”

Mac had his hands together, fidgeting nervously. Was he jealous, maybe? “What did you guys talk about?”

Most likely, Charlie had called to confirm he was still invited over. Dennis knew that regardless of if Dennis had answered or not, Charlie would still show up right on time. “He’s coming over today.”

Mac’s expression dropped marginally. “So… you want me out, then.”

“No, no, not at all,” Dennis assured him, unable to stop a smile from spreading across his face. 

He stood from his seat and approached Mac. A musk of fatigue and shrubbery radiated off of him, and its heaviness increased the closer they drew. Dennis’ eyes fixed on Mac’s parted lips, passing over the dull confusion and anticipation in his eyes. 

Dennis put a hand on Mac’s arm, easing into a firm grip as his thumb gently traced over his bicep. “I want you front and center, sweetheart.”

* * *

“I own him.” 

When Charlie’s face twisted into a confused sort of grimace, Dennis realized he probably should have phrased that differently. “Isn’t that, like, you know… illegal?”

Dennis couldn’t be sure what Charlie was asking. Was slavery illegal? Was prostitution illegal? Did he even know the difference? It didn’t matter, so Dennis didn’t bother answering and posed his own question instead. “Do you want a demonstration or not?”

Charlie was already blushing and unbuttoning his slacks, but he spoke hesitantly in contrast. “’Course I do. I mean, you’re right. He’s really handsome, really good-looking. I bet he’s good at what he does, too.” Charlie hesitated. “Hey, does Dee know about this?”

“Stop asking questions,” was Dennis’ answer, though it was more like a demand. 

Every time Dennis hung out with Charlie, he remembered why the man annoyed him so much. Maybe this was less of a test of Mac’s loyalty and more of a self-gauge so Dennis could see his own reaction to sharing. He probably could have guessed on his own that he would not be good at it, but it was worth a trial run.

As Charlie kept struggling with undoing his belt, he looked at Dennis again, with curiosity. “Does _Frank_ know about this?”

For some godforsaken reason, Mac thought it would be appropriate to intervene. “Hey, man. I know you’ve got questions but Dennis already asked you to stop asking them. If you try to get personal information from him again, I’m going to have to use force on you.” He lowered his voice a bit, almost to a whisper. “Just so you know, I’m his bodyguard, too. Don’t forget it.”

“Oh.” Charlie fumbled with the buckle. “My bad.”

“Mac,” Dennis reminded him though grinding teeth, “I thought I told you that the rule was you have to be very quiet this afternoon.” That meant not to talk at all, but Mac shouldn’t need to be told that since they had this conversation not ten minutes prior.

Mac grimaced. “Oops. I forgot. Sorry, Den.”

Charlie repeated, “ _Den_?”

“Both of you, _shut up_.” 

That was an easy enough command for Charlie to follow. He slid his unbuttoned jeans down in time with his boxers, pushing them down his hips just enough to show the black pubes between his legs. He also showed his pussy, just the start of the labia, where pink lips managed to show themselves through wiry black hair.

Mac’s expression dropped, like a kid who just had candy taken away. “Oh. Uh… I’m sorry, dude, but I don’t know what to do with that. I wasn’t expecting that, and – and, hey, I don’t even like that!”

Charlie scoffed. He pulled his underwear up and buttoned his pants as a blush spread across his face. “Seriously? Aren’t you supposed to have sex with whoever pays you? Isn’t that like, I dunno, the rules?”

That caught Mac’s interest. “Wait. How much are you paying me?”

“Nothing.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

Charlie looked at Dennis, embarrassed and annoyed. “Really, dude? You didn’t tell him about this before you invited me over?”

“Forgot. My bad.” Dennis shrugged and pulled off the lie enough for Charlie to believe him. “Do you still want a demonstration, since you came all the way over here? I’ll make you some tea.”

“I mean…” Charlie sighed, resigned. He looked away, a bit sheepish. “ _Yeah_. I guess so. It’s whatever.”

“Excellent.” Dennis beckoned for Mac to come near him. He spread his legs. “Come here, sweetheart.”

This, Mac was far more familiar with. He looked relieved as he took his place between Dennis’ spread thighs, on his knees. Dennis only got as far as unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. Mac took over the responsibility and took handfuls of the pants, at the hips, and pulled them down until they were in a bunch at Dennis’ ankles. 

Mac moved onto his heels, crouching down and giving Dennis space to stretch his legs out. Mac took Dennis’ feet and lifted them, pulling his pants off and tossing them aside. Then he placed Dennis’ feet on the ground and moved back into a kneeling position. He leaned over and placed gentle kisses up the insides of Dennis’ thighs. 

Dennis hated the feeling of Mac’s wiry beard scratching out the sensitive skin of his thighs, but his soft lips made the kisses bearable, maybe even _good_ , or even amazing – at least they would have been if Dennis couldn’t feel Charlie Kelly’s curious black eyes on him, unblinking. It was easy, though, with a bit of effort put into mental relaxation, to ignore Charlie’s presence and instead feel the warmth of Mac’s mouth, the grip of his hands, the closeness of his body.

“Hold up.” 

Dennis clenched his jaw. God, he hated getting interrupted. What an annoying person Charlie was. Dennis had to sigh to keep his temper even. “What’s wrong, Charlie?”

Charlie raised his hands like he was surrendering, or trying to intercede so he didn’t have to watch. But he did have to, as long as Dennis had a say in the matter. “Sorry for interrupting, but what exactly am I supposed to do right now? Just sit here in silence like an asshole?”

Instinctively, Dennis raised a hand towards Mac to signal that he should put the brakes on, but Mac, either by a stroke of genius or by plain misinterpretation, took Dennis’ hand by the wrist and slipped a few of Dennis’ fingers into his mouth. Mac dutifully sucked on his long, slim fingers, a cute smile he tried to hold back on his face as he did so. That sneaky son of a bitch. Dennis found himself smirking, too. God, he was so in love with this guy.

Dennis managed to snap his attention back to his neighbor. He spoke cordially. “Of course not, Charlie. You have a very important job. You get to film it.” 

Only then did Charlie notice the bulky, admittedly outdated video camera on the coffee table next to his seat. He looked a little confused, but not annoyed enough to say no. He really would make the perfect lackey.

This was for the best. Mac belonged to him now, anyway, so he didn’t have a reason to whore himself out anymore. He was at home here in the Reynolds mansion; he was clothed, fed, and sheltered. He was safe, and he was totally, pathetically, desperately in love.

Dennis was practically a saint for allowing this to happen. He was a sinner for falling in love, too. But who had the right to judge, anyway?


End file.
